


Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

by indistinct_echo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Desperation, Established Relationship, M/M, Omorashi, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indistinct_echo/pseuds/indistinct_echo
Summary: "His heart pounds from the caffeine and anticipation, but he holds and holds and holds. He wants to keep this from Dan just a little longer, wants to see how far he can edge himself before it becomes too much to bear alone."orDan and Phil + 'just normal bathroom stuff'
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	Wake Up and Smell the Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> "wake up and smell the coffee" (informal idiom) — to suddenly realize what's really going on/the reality of a situation

It’s not often that Phil bothers to pull himself from their bed, drag himself from the flat, lug himself, one sleep-laden foot after the other, to the nearest Starbucks just for a cup of coffee. Most of the time, the instant coffee he is able to make without fail, even when half-asleep, is more than good enough. But, today, he’s awake earlier than he needs to be, and, despite the haziness of his sleep-addled state, he knows today’s itinerary looks deliciously blank.

The leaves are a little greener than when he’d last ventured outside, and the air feels less frigid than he had anticipated. It’s almost a shame to know he and Dan will be spending most of today indoors. _Almost_.

He gets a larger coffee than he normally does and tastes it as soon as he steps back outside. It’s both sugary and bitter, and the drink slides down his throat so smoothly that he closes his eyes, without even thinking, to savor the sensation.

He walks into a lamppost.

Phil winces, trying to ignore the pain and prevent his coffee from spilling over. At least, if he keeps his eyes closed, he can pretend that nobody saw. It’s a significantly more favorable outcome than the usual results of his clumsiness; Dan isn’t here to laugh at him fondly or take a sneaky picture with which to tease him later.

No, today, he’s alone, and not even an almost-spilled coffee is going to ruin the plans that are just beginning to take shape in his mind.

He lets himself focus on _that_ , and, with a sigh that’s half embarrassed and half _something else_ , he opens his eyes to make his way back home. The coffee is hot in his mouth and warm going down, and he can feel the heat waking him from the inside out.

Phil is only a block away from the flat, the drained cup now sitting in a street-side rubbish bin, when his breathing starts to pick up. It’s not something he can control nor is something he expected, but it is, definitely, something he had hoped for; though it usually takes more than one cup of coffee to wake his slow-beating heart, getting a _Venti_ had been his attempt at getting a jumpstart on today’s plans.

The sound of the key turning in the lock is loud, but Dan is a heavy sleeper, and, if Phil knows Dan as well as he believes himself to, Dan has, almost definitely, yet to rejoin the land of the awake.

It buys Phil some time. He doesn’t technically _need_ the time, just as he doesn’t technically _need_ to hide the fact that he went to Starbucks from Dan, but, after downing a tall glassful of water, he walks right into their bathroom and grabs his toothbrush anyways.

He is, perhaps, being a bit silly — certainly, within just a few hours, Dan will realize that _something_ is up — but how long until he realizes that something is _this_? If Phil can play his cards right or, at least, with a decent enough bluff, he thinks he’ll be able to manage sneaking a few more cups.

It won’t be easy; Phil’s never been one for lying, even if it is about something as trivial as this. He hopes his confidence in the fact that Dan would want him to hide the truth will make it easier to keep from blurting it out too soon.

Once his teeth are clean and his breath is no longer incriminating, he goes to get changed into something more _suitable_ for the plans swirling around his head. He ambles over to his dresser with a noticeably new buoyancy to his steps.

He rifles through the drawers, looking for one of his tighter pairs of jeans. The first pair that catches his eye is black, unsurprisingly, and are so far back in the drawer that they probably haven’t been in his clothing rotation for some time now.

There’s an excited flutter in the pit of Phil’s stomach that is only partially from the caffeine; if he hasn’t worn these jeans recently, then they are likely straight from the wash and are, therefore, at their tightest fit, not yet stretched from the movements of daily wear.

Stepping into the dark denim, another rush of excitement floods through him. Careful not to yelp when he nearly loses his balance, he shimmies the jeans up his legs and pulls at them until they sit taut over his ass.

The jeans are as tight as he’d hoped they’d be, snug around the knees, the thighs, and, most importantly, the crotch. It has something to do with the rise, he knows, how much space there is between where he prefers to wear his jeans slung low across his hips to the top of the inseam, but that’s about where his knowledge of the architecture of jeans ends. The only thing he really cares about is that his current pair fits in just the right way so as to ensure that the seam holding the two sides of his jeans together presses teasingly, maddeningly against the side of his cock.

He makes his way into the lounge and settles down to play Animal Crossing on the couch. It’s not a game that requires much brain power, but it’s enough to get his mind off of the caffeine running through his system. His hands are maybe a little more jittery than usual and the pressure against his dick is a bit too electric to be entirely ignored, but the steady thrum of daily life in another world is calming.

Phil is able to keep occupied for nearly an hour before he’s itching for another cup of coffee. He stretches his spine until it pops and heads into the kitchen. This cup is a lot easier to prepare; he dumps a heaping spoonful of instant coffee into one mug and, after a moment’s consideration, another spoonful into a second. Once the boiling water has been added and the milk and sugar poured in, Phil mixes the cups slowly, taking pleasure in even this mundane part of his preparations.

Taking a cup in each hand, he walks carefully towards the bedroom. It’s a bit of a struggle to turn the handle with his elbow, but he manages after a few tries only to nearly trip over his feet as he stumbles through the doorway.

Dan is still asleep, his hair sprawled out across the pillow and a hand stretched over the space where Phil normally sleeps. Phil smiles at the sight, but there’s a devious sort of bite to his expression — _Dan has no idea what’s coming_.

“Good morning,” he says in a sing-song voice as he walks over to his side of the bed. He places both mugs on the nightstand, shuffles onto the duvet, and then traces from Dan’s hand up his arm, murmuring sweet morning nonsense as he goes. When Phil reaches Dan’s shoulder, he shakes it gently.

With a sound that’s somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, Dan blinks his eyes open. He covers Phil’s hand with one of his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” Dan says with a lazy sort of grin. He doesn’t make any motion to sit up, so Phil leans down to peck him on the lips. Dan smiles into their kiss.

”I made you coffee,” Phil says quietly.

“Mmm, thanks.”

Phil takes the mugs and passes one to Dan. He lifts the other to his lips and takes his first sip. It tastes so fucking _good_. And the smell… well, the smell is the best part of this whole thing. It’s why all of the coffee drinking now is so important for what he has planned.

He loses himself to the scent, to the warm, earthy smell that’s just pungent enough to remind him that the drink before him isn’t merely a sugary concoction of goodness. It’s adult, somehow, the way its flavor profile isn’t entirely sweet and yet is so completely tantalizing. Too wrapped up in his own reverie to control himself, Phil lets out a low moan.

_Fuck, all of this coffee is getting to him quicker than he thought it would._

Dan raises his eyebrows at Phil over the top of his mug. “You alright there, bub?”

Phil blushes. “It’s just good,” he says, trying not to clear his throat’s sudden scratchiness and give away his true feelings on the matter.

He doesn’t like lying, but this doesn’t quite feel like deceit. The coffee _is_ good, and there’s no real need to tell Dan what exactly makes this particular cup so special.

“Did you get up early this morning?” Dan asks after a moment of silence.

Phil nods and takes another swig of his drink before saying, “Yeah, I played animal crossing for a bit.”

He prefers to offer up the information before Dan can ask; for some reason, lying by omission feels a lot less dishonest. It’s a delicate balance between needing to keep some things secret to increase the thrill of the reveal and the uncomfortable sort of feeling that he gets whenever he isn’t quite as forthcoming with Dan as he thinks he needs to be.

He’s walking along that tightrope of emotion as he tiptoes back into the kitchen while Dan gets up and dressed. He quietly makes himself another coffee — decaf, this time — in his same mug so Dan won’t suspect anything when he sees only the two used mugs from earlier soaking in the sink.

Even though there’s something uncomfortable about sneaking around, his discomfort is not entirely a _bad_ feeling, and maybe that’s what scares him so much. He doesn’t think he should like keeping things from his partner, even if, in this circumstance, it might be understandable.

Being able to keep things to himself, to keep things private even from Dan, means that Dan has to trust him, despite not knowing all of the facts. And Phil just doesn’t know what to do with that, how to handle that sort of trust.

Phil sighs. He had hoped his anxiety would keep at bay today, that he’d be able to get through the morning without doubting himself at every turn. But the extra coffees’ aphrodisiac properties affect him in more ways than one, and the alertness he feels also means that his nerves are on overdrive.

He needs to get out of his head, so he walks back into the bedroom to find Dan deciding between three almost equally black shirts. Phil smiles — it looks like he’s not the only one overthinking things.

There’s something reassuring about that, about knowing he isn’t the only one who gets lost in his own mind. It helps him remember that his anxieties, though present, aren’t reflective of reality merely because they exist. And, even if they do have validity, there’s no reason for him to give more mental weight to those nebulous anxieties than to the gorgeous man right in front of him.

A gorgeous man who, despite looking good in everything he owns, still can’t seem to decide on a shirt.

“Just don’t put one on,” Phil says before he can think the better of it. Now that his anxiety has been tempered, at least for a little while, he can lean into the other, more _fun_ side-effects of his many morning coffees.

Dan looks over one shoulder at him, his face lighting up with a cheeky grin. “What, you’ve got something planned?”

And, well, Phil _does_ , but he’s certainly not going to admit to that when he’s just been reminded of how enjoyable the teasing portion of all this will be, how Dan’s eyes will go wide when he realizes what exactly is up Phil’s sleeve.

So, Phil deflects the question, saying, “What, I can’t just want to look at you?” It’s his best attempt at avoiding an untruth that’ll make his stomach turn.

It’s a cheesy answer, and Dan snorts, but he, thankfully, doesn’t call him on it.

Phil takes a few short steps over to Dan and places kisses from one shoulder all the way along the back of his neck to the other. Dan shivers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do something now?” Dan asks in a pseudo-casual tone, like he’s trying to seem unaffected. “I could shower…”

His voice cracks on the last word.

The zing of the coffee thrums in Phil’s veins. _Fuck_ , it’d be so easy to just give in. They could have normal but mind-blowing sex and just get on with the rest of the day. But even if Dan hasn’t thought about it, Phil knows that today they can do so much more than just normal. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Dan to shower _now_.

He nips at Dan’s shoulder before answering, “Hmm, maybe later. Let’s have breakfast, first.”

Though he dislikes telling Dan what to do — it hits against the same sort of trust block that he felt cornered by earlier — he knows that, for his plan to work, he does, for now, need to keep a little bit of control.

Dan doesn’t seem to mind; he pads into the kitchen and goes to prepare two bowls of cereal. Phil trails into the room behind him and, with put-on nonchalance, grabs a glass from the cupboard. As he fills it with water, he attempts to slow his breathing and school his face into the best non-expression he can manage. He drinks water with breakfast sometimes; there’s no reason for Dan to be suspicious as long as Phil doesn’t give him cause to question his behavior.

They eat while watching anime from opposite ends of the sofa. Dan is swaddled in their fuzzy gray blanket, and Phil has a well-placed pillow in his lap. It hides how he rolls his crotch down towards the couch cushion beneath him whenever Dan seems too invested in the show or his breakfast to notice.

Phil is already half hard, and the coffee and the tight jeans and the plans and fantasies swirling around in his thoughts make it difficult to focus on anything else.

His eyes drift over Dan’s profile. He admires his curls, the slope of his nose, the arch of his neck, and the breadth of his hands where he’s grasped the blanket within loosely clenched fists. And, even though Dan did end up putting on one of the black shirts, Phil can’t find himself too disappointed when the fit shows off the strong build of his shoulders so nicely.

He realizes his ogling is, perhaps, _too_ obvious when Dan suddenly turns to him with a smirk playing at his lips. Phil blushes and averts his eyes. They catch on the half-full glass in front of him, so he brings it to his mouth just for something to do.

Phil does his best to feign obliviousness to Dan’s continued gaze, pretending like his long steady gulps of water that shift his Adam’s Apple with each swallow are unintentional.

Dan clears his throat gruffly. Phil puts down the glass and looks at him with the most innocent expression he can fake.

“You want to take this somewhere?” Dan asks.

Phil pauses for a moment of pretend consideration.

“Nah,” he eventually says with a shrug of his shoulders as though his dick hadn’t twitched where it strained against his jeans at the mere notion of finally getting some relief.

Dan tilts his head and looks at Phil with furrowed brows. But he doesn’t say anything, so Phil doesn’t offer up any more untruths. Instead, he turns back to the television and attempts to pay attention to the action on the screen.

It’s an effort entirely in vain. Those last few sips tipped him over the edge; he can no longer easily back out and continue on with their unremarkable morning of lounging and anime, nor does he want to. His anxieties fall to the wayside as his mind is entirely taken with the sensation of his full bladder pressing against the waistband of his tight jeans.

He tries to count the cups in his head: the Starbucks, the water, one instant coffee and then another…

_Not bad._

It’s with a self-satisfied, hidden smile that he starts to adjust in his seat. Dan would be so proud of him if he knew how well Phil was holding.

A sensation both warm and dangerous swoops low in his gut. He presses the pillow on his lap closer into himself and does his best to stifle his immediate sigh of relief. His heart pounds from the caffeine and anticipation, but he holds and holds and holds. He wants to keep this from Dan just a little longer, wants to see how far he can edge himself before it becomes too much to bear alone.

By the time he finishes all of the water in his glass, any hopes of subtlety are long gone. He’s full on squirming in his seat now, and the pleasured pain that rolls through him each time his bladder spasms sends panic down Phil’s spine; he isn’t leaking yet, but he knows it won’t be long. He itches to unbutton his jeans, to make more space for his bladder to expand and fill and swell.

Phil sits on his hands. His intent is just to stop them from twitching and clenching and reaching too soon for his fly, but then he digs his nails into the underside of his thighs, and the feeling through the denim is so rough and primal that a groan escapes from between his lips.

He pointedly avoids looking at Dan and doesn’t acknowledge that he made any sound at all. If he stays quiet, if he maintains this faux innocence, maybe he’ll be able to manage another cup of coffee after this.

The immediate clench of his bladder is enough to send his mind backpedaling — there’s no chance he’ll be able to drink anything else when he already feels so _full_. He slips one hand out from under his thighs and unbuttons his jeans. The effect is instant.

Phil tries to shift as delicately as he can, aware that, if he fully relaxes, he’ll lose his ability to hold entirely. Even this slight movement causes an electric tingling sensation that radiates throughout his body, stemming from the place that is so desperately in need of attention. He _needs_ to release.

“We can stop, you know,” Dan says. Phil turns sharply towards him. “We can pause the show, and you can go pee.”

Phil shakes his head. “I want to wait.”

“You aren’t even watching the show,” Dan argues.

“Maybe so,” Phil concedes, “but still…”

“But still, what?”

“I want to wait,” Phil repeats himself, wondering if Dan will catch on.

“You want to wait,” Dan says slowly, like he’s trying to determine if the meaning he’s hearing is actually what Phil had intended to imply.

Phil shrugs, but his blush and embarrassed half-smile likely ruin his façade of nonchalance.

Dan rests his chin on one hand as he looks at Phil, and now it’s the wonder in Dan’s eyes that makes Phil want to squirm in his seat.

“You started to drink before waking me,” Dan says. It’s less of an accusation and more like putting all of the pieces together, and Phil so fucking loves the look on Dan’s face as understanding dawns upon it.

“I, uh, also drank some more when you were getting dressed.”

He says it only so that he can finally put his secret-keeping anxieties to rest and therefore isn’t prepared for the way that Dan wholeheartedly beams at his response and lunges right towards him.

“Whoa,” Phil says, laughing as he tries to wrap his arms around him.

He holds Dan steady as he settles into a straddle over Phil’s legs. The pillow in Phil’s lap keeps Dan far enough from his crotch that it’s only his heart that feels like it’s suddenly going to burst.

“I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” Day says giddily, bringing his face close to Phil’s. His gaze darts rapidly between Phil’s eyes, like he can’t quite figure out where to look when he’s so close. Phil has to take a moment to wonder whether Dan is the one who somehow ended up with the caffeine rush.

Dan’s reaction is both grounding and thrilling — Phil doesn’t have to worry about having lied because Dan _wants_ this and is seemingly glad it played out the way it did, secrecy and all.

Dan moves the pillow from between them and then gasps. Phil follows his line of sight and sees how, even though his jeans are dark, the outline of Phil’s hard-on is still clearly visible where it’s pressed against the material. Dan reaches his hand to rest around the shape of him and squeezes gently.

“Careful,” Phil says.

Dan looks up at him. And then, with a palpable sort of confidence, he slowly, slowly raises his hand just slightly to press against Phil’s bladder.

Phil’s eyes squeeze shut, and he tries to clench the muscles in his groin and thighs. It’s of no use — he can already feel the wet warmth starting to leak from his cock. Dan swipes his thumb over the resultant wet spot and sucks his thumb into his mouth after picking up the moisture there.

 _“Mmmm.”_ Dan moans as he closes his eyes.

Phil’s heart flutters, and it takes him a moment before he’s able to grit out, “I think maybe we should move to the bathroom?”

Now that the game is up, he doesn’t need to tell Dan what to do. There is no secret to protect, no plan to follow. Dan can take the reins from here, if he wants; Phil is so desperate to get that next moment of pleasure that he’ll accept it no matter in what form it comes.

“Up to you,” Dan says breathily after finally opening his eyes. He leans close into Phil and starts placing tiny kisses along the side of Phil’s jaw.

Phil only needs to weigh the options for a moment; the knowledge that he’ll likely have difficulty walking there on his own without leaking is enough for him to realize it probably wouldn’t be the smartest idea to delay getting to their desired destination.

“Ok, yeah,” Phil says.

Dan immediately scampers off of him. “Where to?”

Phil frowns — Dan is still letting him make all of the decisions — but he quickly relaxes; this isn’t the sort of decision that truly matters, and the way Dan’s eyes sparkle and his smile is spread wide prevent Phil from having any real concerns that Dan isn’t actually into this.

They carefully begin their walk towards the crappy, coffee-colored bathroom — chosen for both its apt color palette and its easy-to-clean tiles — only to stop around the half-way point when Phil’s bladder spasms.

_“Fuck!”_

Phil frantically presses his thighs together and cups himself tightly.

Dan murmurs encouragements in his ear, and, eventually, they make it to the bathroom without any of Phil’s leakage reaching the hardwood floor, even if he can feel the beginnings of his release running down his leg.

With the hand not holding his dick, Phil haphazardly slaps against the wall in search of the light-switch. They stumble into the bathroom as the one still-working ceiling light sputters on. The lack of proper lighting is generally enough of a reason for Phil to avoid this particular bathroom, but today the darkness only adds to the ambiance.

Dan steps away from Phil for a moment to grab a towel from the rack and place it in front of the washing machine; they’re experienced enough to know that some messes just aren’t worth spending the afternoon moving heavy machinery in order to mop the tiles underneath.

Without Dan’s hand around his waist, it’s difficult for Phil to keep upright. Lust and poor lighting make his vision swim, and, because he still has his fingers wrapped around the shape of his leaking cock, he can’t easily brace himself against the counter for balance. He leans back, as lightly as he can, against the glass wall that surrounds their shower. It can hold his weight, probably, but he’d rather not test that particular theory when there are so many more pressing matters at hand.

He feels the spike in urgency when he tentatively squeezes himself through his jeans. The shudder that runs through him makes him moan and has his eyes rolling back. He slumps against the shower wall more fully — he can’t be bothered to think about things like physics and gravity or the fragility of glass when he’s just so fucking desperate for release.

Phil shifts his hand slightly to tease at his zipper, flicking it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. But before he can really think about pulling it down, Dan gets up from his crouched position by the washer, spins towards him, takes two steps in his direction, and pins both of Phil’s hands above his head against the glass.

Phil’s chest heaves as he maintains eye contact with Dan. Dan looks… _beautiful_. Phil can see the want and excitement in his expression — feelings that he is sure are mirrored on his own visage — and there’s something that, even now, feels special about being with Dan like this.

He had maybe been a little worried that he wouldn’t get to see this side of Dan today; his desire for _this_ isn’t always a sure thing. There are times when Dan gets caught up in what he thinks he _should_ want rather than what he _does_ and, while the experience is always fantastic and still feels just as genuinely them, Phil can’t deny that he just really fucking loves when Dan wholeheartedly gives into his desires.

It’s what made keeping this from Dan so nerve-wracking — what if, today, he had been wrong? Though life is less exciting when surprises are off the table, it certainly is easier on Phil’s anxiety when he lays himself fully bare and lets them each walk into every new situation with their eyes wide open.

But he doesn’t feel any worry now; Dan’s insistent pressing of his lips against Phil’s has his mind buzzing with television-like static. He parts his lips when Dan licks across the bottom one, and Dan teasingly slips his tongue into Phil’s mouth. The hand not keeping Phil’s wrists pressed to the glass squeezes his hip in time with their quickly building rhythm.

The pressure is increasing. He’s getting more desperate. The fullness and the liquid and the _need_ inside of him are becoming unbearable. He _has_ to let go.

“Dan, _Dan_ , I have to…”

 _“Shhh,”_ Dan murmurs before turning his head to suck at Phil’s neck. Phil cries out and, without even thinking, pulls his hands down out of Dan’s grasp. Dan lets him go easily, his hands now shifting to roam up and down Phil’s sides but never veering towards the one place Phil most wants them to be.

Phil twines his fingers into Dan’s curly hair and pulls. Hard. Dan groans and scrapes his teeth against the side of Phil’s neck. Phil start to leak again, and _fuck_ does even this minimal sort of release feel good.

Dan shifts one foot forward, stepping between Phil’s feet. He takes another step closer, and the movement nudges Phil’s shins, his knees, and, finally, his thighs apart. Phil tries to keep all of his muscles tense, tries not to give in, but the moment Dan’s thigh brushes against his cock through his jeans, it’s all over.

His release happens quickly, the careful dam of his control finally breaking, finally _bursting_ , as he throws his head back against the glass and grinds harshly against Dan’s thigh. His release soaks through the denim and runs warm down his leg.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Dan says. He pulls back from Phil, and, even in the dim lighting of their bathroom, Phil can see how much Dan loves this. “How much coffee have you had today?”

Phil almost laughs, but then Dan returns his lips and tongue and teeth to Phil’s neck, and he can’t do anything but breathe, _“A lot._ ”

Dan smiles against Phil’s skin. Phil inhales deeply, and he smells the nutty, earthy scent of his coffee-fueled release in the air as he continues to spill all over himself, Dan, and their bathroom floor.

Dan snakes a hand down to cup Phil’s dick through his jeans, milking the last few drops of his release out of him. Phil moans as Dan’s hand squeezes around his hard cock. He wants to lean into the touch but isn’t sure his legs could hold him up if he tried to stand on his own.

He doesn’t have a chance to find out — Dan wraps a hand around Phil’s waist and pulls him away from the wall of the shower. He spins them so Phil is standing in front of the closed toilet, and Dan pushes him down onto it roughly.

It’s hot. It’s so fucking hot.

There’s no hesitation, no doubt, no bashfulness that indicates Dan is overthinking how much he’s allowed to be into something like this. No, he just sinks to his knees in front of Phil, slowly drags the zipper of his wet jeans down, and pulls Phil’s aching cock out from his pants like there’s nothing more that he wants in the world.

Dan leans forward and presses his face into the crook between Phil’s groin and his thighs. Phil watches as he breathes in the musky smell of urine and coffee and _Phil_. Dan sucks a mark into the sensitive skin there before making his way with tiny kitten licks towards the base of Phil’s cock.

And, well, _fuck._ Dan is cleaning him, _drinking_ him. The sight is so hot that Phil comes before Dan can even get his mouth properly on him. He streaks white over Dan’s cheek and jaw and the dip of his clavicle.

Dan looks up at him with soft eyes and a satisfied sort of smile. “Thank you for this,” he whispers, and it feels incongruous with how wrecked he looks.

But Phil gets it, he thinks. He knows it took years before Dan was willing to admit to wanting something so… _taboo_. Dan trusts Phil to take this thing that’s so base and turn it into something they both love.

So maybe it’s okay that Phil is both comfortable and not with keeping secrets from Dan. Phil is allowed to take pride in the trust Dan has in him and find fun, new ways for that trust to play out. It’s still scary — there will always be the fear that he’ll push Dan too far — but perhaps then it is his turn to trust Dan to speak up if that happens.

Dan places a soft kiss to the skin at the edge of where Phil’s jeans are wrapped tight and wet around his muscular thighs. Then he stands between Phil’s legs and drags down his joggers and then his pants and guides one of Phil’s hands to wrap around his cock.

Phil wanks him slowly, savoring every gasp and every flutter of his eyelids. He knows Dan is replaying everything that happened between them over and over in his mind. It’s a challenging feat in its own right; agonizing over whether something is _allowed_ or _good_ is a skill at which they are both far too equipped.

Just like Phil gets overwhelmed with the magnitude of the secrecy and with the burden of creating a scenario in advance, Dan sometimes struggles with _this,_ the part where they are actually intimate. And Phil is so fucking thankful to know even this about Dan, this thing — this _kink_ — that Phil came to terms with long ago but that Dan is still working through being ashamed of.

The fact that Dan trusts Phil to help him find enjoyment in something that terrifies him, well, it’s not that different from when Dan came to him with the same faith that Phil would help him get over his residual fears about being with a man. Both then and now, it’s a sort of trust with which Phil sometimes still struggles, but he sure as hell would never give up the opportunity to be there for Dan, with him, as he finds new ways to explore who he is and who he wants to be.

So, when Dan comes over Phil’s fist and then moves to sit on his lap, Phil just holds and holds and holds him.

**Author's Note:**

> Health note: If your urine smells like coffee, you're drinking too much of it. Do dnp proud and remember to "Stay Hydrated!"  
> Like/Reblog [here](https://indistinct-echo.tumblr.com/post/624445325942423553/wake-up-and-smell-the-coffee) :)


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